


Along With Winter Comes My Fury

by Sklirotiri



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Act 1 - Peace, Act 2 - On the run, Act 3 - War, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And some POV Arya Stark, And then everything changed, Arranged Marriage, Endgame Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Friends to Lovers, Gendry is a Baratheon, Multi, Ned Stark Lives, POV Gendry Waters, Prince Gendry, Times of Peace, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-01-25 20:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21362317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sklirotiri/pseuds/Sklirotiri
Summary: Let's assume that when Jon Arryn met Gendry he did not only ask questions about his past but also took measures for his future.A simple decision is made in an armory shop changing the course of history in the seven kingdoms.'So… How do you like it?''What?... Excuse me m’lord, how do I like what?''Your father’s house my boy. How do you like it?'
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 142
Kudos: 375





	1. A decision that changed the course of history

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Small Moments of Great Import](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2316956) by [apolla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolla/pseuds/apolla). 

> For apolla who inspired me to imagine a story in the alternate universe crafted in Small Moments Of Great Import.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Act I Peace: Prologue

_ King's Landing 298 AC_

Flee bottom was always bustling with small folk trying to get by in the shadows of the Red Keep.

Within the bottom of the Capital the people were used to the stink and the noise and their bowls of brown.

The street of steel was not any different but the banging and yelling coming from the center of it, Tobho Mott's armory shop, was too much even for the lowlifes of this retched place. For days now Tobho and his young apprentice, a boy of fifteen name days, had been hard at work preparing a new sword commissioned by the hand of the king, Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale.

'If you let that fire die boy, I swear to all the gods, old and new, I will kill you with this unfinished blade' Tobho yelled as Gendry tried to feed even more coals to the fire roaring in the forge.

Gendry run to his masters side to pick up the blade and place it in the fire after another round of shaping.

As he waited for the steel to turn flaming red he thought about all the pieces he had made under his master's tutelage all these years in the shop. Tobho was a master weapon smith, and Gendry had become very skilled in his own right. Together they forged high end armor and weapons for the knights and nobility of Kin's Landing. He glanced at the bull's head helmet he had made, his best work yet, and then back at the fire. This sword was different. They worked for days on days folding the steel to create a unique pattern. An one of a kind weapon for the second most powerful man of the kingdom.

He picked up the blade with his heavy tongs and quenched it.

'It is looking quite good but we can't be late. There is no question about it.' Tobho said looking satisfied for the first time in days.

'Yes master.'

So they kept working into the night, tempering and sharpening and finishing the handle for the great sword.

With the break of dawn it was ready, most of the work done by the strong apprentice really. Mott had fallen asleep in the back of the shop.

'Now we must wait' Gendry whispered to himself as he kept wiping the blade watching the sun rise and the shops slowly coming to life.

* * *

It was not long before Lord Arryn arrived along with a handful of guards in the street of steel.

'Welcome m'lord' Tobho said bowing respectfully as the hand of the king entered the shop.

'Good day to you Tobho, I trust my sword is ready?' said Lord Arryn with a friendly tone while grabbing the master's hand.

'Yes of course m'lord. Gendry!' Tobho yelled.

Gendry quit at once his work in the back and carried the sword carefully wrapped in a velvet fabric for the lord to inspect. He stood in front of the old man and even though he towered over him he kept his gaze to the ground feeling quite small at the moment.

'Masterful work as always' Lord Arryn marveled as he unwrapped the blade and admired it.

Then Gendry felt the old man gaze over him and felt quite tense.

'And this young lad? Is he your apprentice?' he asked Tobho.

'Yes m'lord, Gendry, strong for his age and works hard. He helped me a lot with your sword m'lord. Show the hand your helmet boy.' Tobho said enthusiastically.

Gendry quickly fetched his bull's head helm and handed it to the hand who kept eyeing him with an inquisitive gaze.

'This is fine work lad.' Lord Arryn said finally taking his eyes off Gendry to look at the helmet.

'It is not for sale, I made it for me' Gendry said without much thinking.

'Oi lad, this is the hand of the king, if he wants it he can have it' Tobho yelled angrily.

'No' answered Gendry without hesitation now afraid for his beloved work and trembling under his masters and the lord's gaze.

'Forgive me m'lord' Tobho turned to Lord Arryn facing the ground.

'There is nothing to forgive. You don't have to worry lad. But I must ask... who is your mother?' Lord Arryn asked softly with a worried look.

Gendry froze again. He had not thought of his beautiful golden haired mother in years...He could not remember much but what he remember pained him deeply and so he told this strange old man.

'And your father?' Lord Arryn insisted.

'He could be anyone for all I know m'lord' Gendry said finally turning his head to face the man.

'I see... You seem so familiar' he said quietly that only Gendry could have said and he turned abruptly to face Tobho again. 'Thank you again for your work, both of you. I may call on you soon for some more work. Send the boy to me for the next order, you don't have to come all the way to the keep and as you see I have grown quite old to be making this trip often' Lord Arryn said with a broad smile and excited the shop.

* * *

And just like that Gendry was left flabbergasted by this strange interaction to stare at the entrance of the shop where everything was back to normal but it all felt suddenly different.

'Excellent lad, we did excellent' Mott's voice waked him from his daydream. 'You are finally ready for Valyrian steel' he said grabbing him by the shoulders.

'Master...' Gendry released a breath. 'Thank you, truly, I am glad you think I am worthy'

'Stop it now, you are good at your work and you know it' he said slapping his back as he handed him some coins to go buy sweet cakes and mead to celebrate their success.

And with that the street of steel was noisy once again through the night with a different kind of yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this first chapter is quite similar to the original but my direction for this story is quite different. I hope you stick with me for this one, my story about our favourite boy in asoiaf who might finally get all that he deserves.  
*I have amended the date to fit everyone's ages and my timeline according to the awoiaf*  
Gendry 15  
Arya 11  
Robb 16  
Theon 18  
Jon 16  
Sansa 13  
Bran 9  
Rickon 5


	2. A visit to the Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry enters the Keep that shadows everyone in Fleabottom for the first time in his life.

_ King's Landing a fortnight later_

Not long had passed when Tobho Mott received word from Lord Arryn, hand of the king, calling for another commission from the master smith. He was requesting for a gift for his ward and good friend, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, a direwolf helm similar to the bull's head helm Gendry had fashioned for himself.

Gendry had been busy with order after order for various knights and green lords who after hearing about Lord Arryn's new sword found themselves envious of the unique weapon and practically ran to Tobho's shop for a new trinket for their collections. He still found some time to learn about the spells required to forge Valyrian steel. Between the endless new orders and this new skill, he found himself working twenty hour days in the stifling forge.

So when the messenger boy arrived carrying Lord Arryn's new request he panicked about the amount of work this would require.

'The direwolf is the sigil of House Stark, is it not? I could fashion a direwolf helm so real that children will run from the man wearing it in the street.' Tobho said while reading the message. 'I still need your help boy, Lord Arryn clearly wants a helm similar to yours.'

Gendry stood in front of a his master in silence waiting for him to finish with the parchment with the falcon wax seal.

'He expects you to meet him in the Red Keep with drawings for the helmet tomorrow first thing in the morning. So don't stand there like a fool boy. Get to work!' Mott barked and Gendry run to the back of the shop to gather parchment and ink.

* * *

As expected come first light Gendry had barely slept again. But he was ready. He washed up and tried to make himself presentable. He had gathered his rolls with the first sketches for Ned Stark’s helmet and was walking up the street of steel towards the magnificent castle keeping the most powerful and privileged people of the capital higher up than the lowlifes of flee Bottom. As he walked all the shops and stalls of the market slowly came to life and the shopkeeps started lining up their exotic fruits, tasty smelling confections and luxurious fabrics.

Soon he reached the traders entrance of the great keep where a guard asked him for his purpose there.

'I am Tobho Mott’s apprentice, here by request of the hand of the king to deliver the drawings of a helmet' Gendry said with apprehension holding up his bag towards the guard.

'Wait here and don’t move.'

So Gendry stood and observed through the huge metal gate the sight in front of him. A small glimpse into the great castle was still more than he could ever imagine in his wildest dreams. He would stand to be corrected just a few minutes later. Just a few yards from him opened a large courtyard where knights had already begun their practice for the day and young squires run around to execute their master's orders.

A tall fella arrived, a man he recognized from Lord Arryn’s visit to the shop as one of his personal guard bearing the crescent moon and falcon sigil on his breastplate. He ordered him to follow.

He lead him through the cloister surrounding the training yard up to winding stairs and corridor after corridor within the castle. Gendry suspected after the fifth turn in a single path that this guard had been ordered to take an unusual path, perhaps a more quiet one, towards the hand’s personal solar. As they kept heading up their surroundings became more and more luxurious. The paths were lined with colorful carpets. They were lit with ornate braziers and huge arched windows. Tapestries hang on the walls, depicting scenes from the history of the seven kingdoms, not that Gendry would recognize a lot but they were still pretty to look at.

Finally the guard stopped in front of a big wooden door announcing their arrival and Gendry took a big breath trying to calm himself down before the meeting with the strange old man.

* * *

'So… How do you like it?' Jon Arryn asked with a wide smile after greeting Gendry and dismissing his guard.

'What?... Excuse me m’lord, how do I like what?' Gendry was confused and anxious. He had barely walked in this beautiful solar, barely managed to greet the king’s hand with the required politeness, barely sat down in the most comfortable chair he had ever sat in his life, and already the old man was asking him cryptic questions.

'Your father’s house my boy. How do you like it?'

Now Gendry was truly confused and baffled. 'I'm lowborn m'lord. As lowborn as one can be. I don't even know my father's name. Some drunk like the one's my mother dragged home from the alehouse, I'd wager.'

'From your mother's side, yes boy you are lowborn. But you have noble blood. The king's blood. Targaryen blood even lad.' Arryn said with a soothing tone.

'Forgive m'lord, I don't understand'

Then Lord Arryn opened a huge tome sitting on his desk and started flipping through the pages. 'Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair... Axum Baratheon, black of hair... Steffon Baratheon, black of hair... Robert Baratheon, black of hair...' He shifted in his seat, took a deep breath and locked eyes with a terrified Gendry. 'You are a bastard boy. The bastard of Robert of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men.'

'Anyone who knew Robert in his youth, and I fostered him in the Vale along with Ned Stark, could tell just by looking at you. You have such a striking resemblance to your father it's uncanny. You are strong, as he were. You are broad, as he were. You have power, as he did. The hair, your eyes... Same. But you are kind and humble and smart. I can tell boy. You have it in you, the power to become one of the greatest men in this troubled kingdom. And your time in this world is coming. As winter is coming, your fury will come too'

Gendry felt something in him shifting as he heard the words come out the old man's mouth. There is nothing more he would want more than a place in the world. He was happy in the forge, truly. Luckier than most. But a family? A history? He felt some excitement even, battling his terror.

'I could take you to meet your father. But I won't. You would never be safe again. He is not ready, you are not ready and the court is a venomous place'

'So what are you saying m'lord?' Gendry asked already feeling like the lowly commoner once again.

'You are to foster with Ned Stark. I cannot think of another place you would be safe. I could sent you to Storm's End, your house castle. But I can't know how Stannis would react. He is a complicated man.'

'Stannis m'lord?'

'Your uncle boy, your father's brother.' Arryn continued 'No, you will go to Winterfell, I will make all the arrangements. You just need to finish the helm as a gift for Lord Stark and then you will leave. Gather your belongings, prepare yourself for the journey, say your goodbyes. Your time in the capital is over boy, for now that is.'

'As you command m'lord' Gendry said lowering his gaze to the floor.

'It is not a command my boy, it is necessary for your safety. There is no telling what the Lannisters would do if they found out. You are not safe here.'

Lord Arryn stood and grabbed Gendry by the shoulders. 'Take care Gendry... I am truly happy to have found you. Finish the helm and we will speak again soon, I promise.'

Gendry felt warmth coming from the old man, somehow he knew what he said was true. He felt safe in the cold castle, in the hand's solar.

Lord Arryn called for the guard to escort him to the entrance and to be careful along the way so that no one would spot them.

As he begun to leave, Gendry noticed a tapestry hanging by the door. King Robert, he gathered, tall and strong and so like him wearing a shining armor and a helm with magnificent stag antlers leaping over a defeated Rhaegar Targaryen waving his war hammer. How ironic he thought, that he was swinging a heavy blacksmith's hammer for the past however many years much as Robert once swung his war hammer.

* * *

As Gendry and the guard kept weaving though the many corridors and passageways of the Red Keep heading for the traders entrance once more Gendry kept his head down, worried about Jon Arryn's warning. What if someone were to notice him and like the hand recognize his face as it was, King Robert's own.

Unfortunately what he feared would happen, actually did as they made their way through the cloister surrounding the training yard, almost at their destination, a few more paces and he would have been safe. He stumbled onto a huge man turning the last corner. A man he had seen a few times in the streets when the royal family made their way to the High Sept. A man who usually followed the crown prince. Sandor Clegane. The Hound.

'Watch where you are going, cunt!' The Hound barked at Gendry as he kept his gaze to the ground and picked up his pace towards the huge metal gate.

He could feel the knight's eyes onto his back but he kept walking. He could only hope that he did not recognize him and that if he did, Jon Arryn would manage to protect him.

* * *

Back at the forge everything was as normal as it ever were. Tobho assigned him to work solely on the Hand's new commission. Gendry did not tell him much about what Lord Arryn had planned but he did not have to. Tobho had received another letter from him describing that Gendry would leave for Winterfell soon as he had received word from the Warden of the North that he needed more blacksmiths. He had already started looking for strong lads to replace him in the armory shop and he interviewed them along with Gendry's help.

'I know that Lord Arryn's word is a command, but you leaving will cause trouble. Everyone that came is either too young, too weak or too stupid...'

'I am sorry master...'

He gathered his belongings during the first night. He did not own much anyway. He stuffed his few clothes, not suitable for the North but he could not afford new ones, and his helm in a small sack and worked tirelessly day and night on the direwolf helmet for Lord Stark waiting for something to happen.

As the days passed he felt that he had dreamed the visit to the Red Keep. But the angry face of the Hound snarling at him brought him back to reality. He felt unsafe in the capital, anxious and he could not sleep much.

During one night, seven days after his meeting with the hand, he had a dream while sleeping in his cot in the back of the smithy. Or was it a nightmare? He did not know.

He felt cold in his sleep, colder than ever, and he could not move as a huge grey and brown direwolf with yellow eyes stood in front of him and growled protectively. He thought he saw a small girl running in the background but he could not be sure. He woke up from the sound of horses approaching the shop's entrance.

Jon Arryn came down from the big wheelhouse and grabbed Gendry. He seemed worried and somehow even older.

'You have to leave boy. Now!'

He did not have time to wake his master but they had said their goodbyes and they were prepared for this moment. Gendry did not expect it to be this hurried though.

He grabbed his sack and Ned Stark's helm and climbed onto the wheelhouse.

'I can accompany you until the city's gates. Outside Sir Boris, my guard, will be waiting you with two horses and escort you until the Crossroads. From there you will be on your own boy but I trust you to make it to Winterfell in one piece.' Lord Arryn said and gave him a sealed letter for Lord Stark and a pouch with more gold coins than he could have earned in his lifetime working in the street of steel.

Outside the gates, which were surprisingly unguarded, the old man embraced him and wished him well. 'I hope I will live long enough to see you become the great man you were always meant to be'

Gendry felt his eyes stinging. He did not know the man long enough but he had shown him more kindness than he had ever met in his fifteen years on this cruel world.

He climbed the horse quite awkwardly. While as a blacksmith he was surely very skilled and talented he did not have many other skills. He sure wasn't a young lording taking history and fighting and horse riding lessons from experienced masters. But he rode on and he rode fast following Sir Boris.

On the hills in the outskirts of King's Landing he took one last look at the retched city, his home for all his life, and he swore to never look back...


	3. A long road ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry embarks on the travel up the King's Road.

_ The Inn at the Crossroads one dull evening_

Gendry and Sir Boris arrived at the Crossroads Inn some days later. It had all been a blur. Meeting Lord Arryn, the revelations about his parentage, the midnight escape from the capital and the dull journey up to here. His travel companion was not very talkative or cheerful to begin with. Not that Gendry was in the right head space to be a pleasant company either. He had always been described as stubborn and gloomy but in truth he was just very pragmatic and aware of his place in the world. An unacknowledged bastard boy…

But suddenly everything had changed. He was uprooted from the only place he had known. He was heading to Winterfell to stay in the legendary castle of the Starks. He had a father, a fat drunk old warrior but a father nonetheless…

His sleep did not improve since leaving the capital. Not only he was feeling extremely terrified about his future. I mean what if Lord Stark turned him down? But the rest stops and the campsites along the kingsroad did little to calm him down. The dreams continued. Little glimpses of snowy fields. Enormous trees with red leaves. Tall dark gray battlements. And always the yellow eyed wolf lurking in the shadows, watching his every move from afar. So he kept having restless nights. Every time he would curl up close to the fire and try to warm up, the cold air piercing his lungs, getting more intense every day.

‘I'm gonna have to find some new clothes soon…‘ he murmured quietly to himself as he dismounted from his jittery horse and turned to face his companion.

‘This is it. You are on your own from here. I suggest you get yourself a featherbed and a warm meal tonight cause the road isn’t going to get any better. I’m gonna have to return to the capital at once’ Sir Boris said in his gruff voice.

‘Wait… Please send my thanks to Lord Arryn.‘

Sir Boris just nodded and swiftly turned his horse around.

Gendry stood there for a while staring in the distance as the sun quickly set in the background, contemplating the next leg of his journey. The long one, the lonely one. Sir Boris might have been quiet but he still was another living person, a trustworthy one. From here on out he would be alone.

The cold breeze shook him from his thoughts and he headed towards the stables where he removed the saddle from his horse, bull he had named him as he had proven to be quite as stubborn as himself, gathered his satchel and went to the Inn.

He found a seat near the large hearth and soon a young brown haired skinny server girl came to him holding a large tray of food and ale. He picks up a cup of ale and a meat pie and asks the girl for a room for the night. He notices another girl, older, with looks similar to the young one at the entrance to the kitchen staring at him. He had been wondering lately if every prolonged look he had gotten in his life had been related to his resemblance to the King. But she doesn't seem suspicious or curious, just interested... He is too tired to care. And the yellow and grey eyes that occupy his dreams have proven enough distraction.

After enjoying his warm meal he heads upstairs to his room. It is not much but it is still way more than he ever had in King's Landing. The room has a soft featherbed, a hearth and a basin with warm water. With a fortnight or more left on his journey towards Winterfell he decides to enjoy every bit of his quick interlude. So he scrubs himself clean, places his clothes near the fire and gets into the soft and pillowy feather bed. Another nearly sleepless night passes...

* * *

The journey up the kingsroad proves to be even more challenging than Gendry had expected. He at least had managed to acquire a new warm cloak. But as per the instructions of Lord Arryn he had to travel parallel the road and camp in the woods so as to avoid any other travelers. He could trust no one anymore. With every old man and every trader he happened to run into he kept all interactions to a minimal and kept his hood on at all times.

He tried to stop and rest only when absolutely necessary, more for his horse's sake than his own. The days once more had been a blur. A dozen days had passed he gathered and still the great castle did not appear on the horizon. The only indication that he was heading the right way was the increasing cold surrounding him. So he kept on riding... During sundown he would gather all the firewood he could find but everything was damp and he mostly had to make dew without a fire to warm up. He had been caught riding in the rain three, or maybe four times. He could feel the cold seeping through to his bones. He had never been truly comfortable in the capital, but at least he was always warm.

But he had to be strong and he had to continue.

One particularly chilly evening he stumbled upon two men sitting by a small fire. An older bearded one and a younger one holding a woodharp. Sure they were armed but so was he. So he decided to gamble his luck for a bit of warmth. He did not have much choice anyway, they had apparently seen him from afar.

'Mind if I share your fire for a while?' Gendry called while approaching with his horse.

'Sure lad, come, sit, warm yourself. We might even get some food soon enough' the older one told him while uncapping a casket of wine.

'So... where are you heading boy?' asked the other man. He was brown haired and quite slim.

'Emm... I am traveling to Wintertown to visit some family.' Gendry said trying to sound convincing.

'Not a very good liar this one' he continued and laughed while plucking his harp.

'Leave him alone Tom. He doesn't have to tell us anything. Look at him. He doesn't look like a Lannister anyway so we are probably safe' the older one said with a broad mirth while looking at Gendry's face as if he recognized him. As if looking an old friend.

Gendry did not feel afraid amongst these men though. He felt as if had known them for long. Friends from another lifetime maybe.

A third one approached carrying two rabbits and a bow on his back. A much younger freckled redhead. 'So I see we have company lads. This is as much as I could find. It will have to do.'

So they sat around the fire, joking and drinking for some time. Gendry tried to help skin the rabbits. Tom, Anguy and Thoros, as Gendry learned their names were, proved to be very pleasant company and a much needed distraction during his tiring journey. In the morn they would split up heading to opposite directions. He fell asleep to the sound of Tom's harp and some song about a forest lass...

* * *

A couple days later he finally saw the great castle in the distance. The huge ancient castle where the Starks had lived for centuries had two sets of massive walls, tall round drum towers, strong battlements and a village spread outside the main gate. He could make up a small forest inside the walls. It was truly a marvel to look at. 

But it was getting dark and he could not in his right mind disturb Lord Stark after sun down. So he decided to camp near the edge of the forest on the western side of the great keep, the wolfs wood, as Thoros had told him, gather his nerves and face the man first thing in the morning. He curled up near his horse, rubbing his hands for warmth. He could see his breath in the air. Finally accepting the coldness, he closed his eyes and tried his best to get some rest.

He woke up from a weight on his chest. It felt like animal paws keeping him pined to the ground. He was terrified to open his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked. Huge yellow eyes were staring back at him. The eyes from his dreams...

'Nymeria! Come here at once' called the voice of a young girl running towards him. She also looked familiar. As she came close to him he noticed her eyes first. Grey eyes bore down on him. She was young, maybe ten or eleven years old, had brown hair peaking through a much too large helmet and was wearing boys clothes. She was smiling. Presumably satisfied by the situation he was in. She petted the, not really small, wolf cub on his chest and the beast immediately jumped to run around her in a playful manner.

'She doesn't bite...much. You can get up now.' she said to him and continued to pet her wolf.

'Not how I expected to wake up this morn' he murmured and brushed himself straight.

'So how did you expect to wake up?'

'By the sun I presume' surprised that she had heard him.

'There will not be much sun today anyway so your plan may not have worked stupid'

'You know you shouldn't insult people that are bigger than you' he said with a smile. This little soldier girl was teasing him.

'Then I wouldn't get to insult anyone!' she said rolling her eyes. 'I'm sorry if she scared you but we were playing and she started running up the hill and I couldn't catch her in time.'

'It's ok. So, were you playing soldiers with your friends little girl?'

'I'm not a girl!'

'Yes you are, I'm not that stupid.'

'You are more stupid than you think. I am a knight and knights can't be girls, everyone knows that.'

'First of all everyone can become a knight, boy or girl, and you are still a girl.'

'Am not!' she crossed her arms and looked at him. 'What are you?'

'Boy obviously' Gendry said with a half smile.

'No I mean, what are you doing here in the woods, who are you?'

'Armourer's apprentice my kind Sir, heading to Winterfell, my name is Gendry. And your name?' Gendry replied with a flourished mock bow.

'My name is Arya, of house Stark. And this is Nymeria, my direwolf.'

'Your father then... Lord Stark. So you're a highborn then, a lady.' Gendry was stunned. He did not expect to meet a member of the Starks yet.

'No. I mean yes. My mother is a lady, and my sister.'

'But you're a Lord's daughter and you live in a castle....' Gendry interrupted her. 'I should be calling you m'lady'

'Do not call me "m'lady"'

'As m'lady commands' and then she shoved him and he laughed 'Well, that was unladylike' and she shoved him again with all her strength and he landed on the ground. She whistled at her wolf and took off angrily. He was left there, smiling, looking at her until she disappeared in the distance.

* * *

Soon after he headed towards the castle. The falcon sealed letter gave him immediate access to the inner courtyard of Winterfell where he dismounted and waited for the guard to notify his lord of his arrival.

A tall broad man with a solemn face wearing thick furs and carrying a large Valyrian great sword by his side came towards him. Right behind him two young lads followed him, one with red-brown hair and one who looked like the male version of the girl from earlier.

The tall man, Lord Stark as he presumed, stood in front of him and looked surprised as he observed him. He had the same inquisitive look on his face as Jon Arryn had during his first visit to the shop. But he looked as if he had seen a ghost, stunned and pale.

'Who are you lad? And what is your purpose here.'

'M'lord, I come bearing a gift and a letter from the hand of the king.' Gendry said with all the confidence he could muster and presented the letter and direwolf helm and turned his gaze to the ground.

Lord Stark opened and read the letter then and there while the young boys stared at the helmet. Gendry could see two more wolves, or direwolves he should say, staring at the scene from a distance in the courtyard a huge gray one and a white one with red eyes.

'Thank you for your gift, truly marvelous work. Jon says here you were a blacksmith apprentice in King's Landing' Lord Stark said taking the helm from Gendry's hands and observing it with appreciation 'Come with me Gendry. You must be exhausted from your journey. Robb here will take you to a room and I will call for a warm meal to be delivered to you and a maester to check on you. We will talk more later. Try to get some rest too.' he said with a hand placed on his back, guiding him towards the inner castle.

He was met with impeccable hospitality. The young boy, who introduced himself as Lord Stark's eldest son, Robb, took him to a guest chamber. Not as luxurious and pompous as what he had seen in the Red Keep, but warm and comfortable and so much more than he could have hoped. Several servants came in and out during the next hours to take care of his every need. Some bearing food, some hot water for a huge steel bath, some new clean clothes. Even the maester of the castle came with some herbs to sooth his sore throat and his cold.

Once everyone left the room, Gendry fell almost instantly into a deep dreamless sleep for the first time since he finished Lord Arryn's sword in the capital...


	4. Introductions and strange things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes as Gendry gets used to the routine of the North.

Just as the man said, Gendry was summoned at the Lord's personal solar that very afternoon. Or maybe evening? He was still dazed and sleepy and much too tired to actually comprehend what time of day it was. The overwhelming darkness of the North messing with his head and his ability to tell the time. Not that he had been able to even count the days since he left the capital.

But he was safe. Or he felt safe. He somehow thought he could trust the solemn man that he met in the courtyard that morn. He definitely trusted Jon Arryn and that was enough for now.

As he followed Vayon Poole, Winterfell's steward as he learned, through the stone corridors of the great northern keep he was surprised that he did not fell any bit cold as if he had been on the road to here. The space deep in the castle was warm and inviting, lit dimly by small iron candelabras along the way, not any bit pompous or overly fancy as the Red Keep. He thought that was a good thing. Nope, definitely a good thing.

'Ah Gendry, come in lad, sit' Lord Stark greeted him as he came through the big wooden door and proceeded to stare at him as if expecting him to suddenly morph into young Robert and properly acknowledge his boyhood friend.

As if reading his thoughts he shook himself and stood from his place in his desk that was covered from corner to corner with books, stacks of parchment and various quills, and started to pace alongside the huge bookshelf that spanned the entire back wall of the solar.

'First of all, I want to thank you again for your gift. It is art really but I am certain that already Robb is dreaming about wearing in the battlefield slaying his enemies in the name of the Starks' 'Head above the clouds that one...' he mumbled under his breath, a mental note more likely than for Gendry to actually hear.

'Tis nothing m'lord, and to be honest it is not actually a gift from me but a commission for Lord Arryn' Gendry said, his eyes pined to the ground.

'I am aware lad, but he did not have to, and you certainly did not have to make it before you could come here' 'If what Jon says is true then you would always be welcome here Gendry' he stilled for a moment before starting to pace around the room.

'He sent me a raven you know, didn't make sense of it at the time...The seed is strong it said. Now I see it clearly' And he was back to staring at his face. Not that Gendry would actually raise his eyes to see, but he could feel his burning wistful gaze upon him.

'You are to foster here lad, as I and your father once did with Jon' he paused again, presumably lost in his childhood memories at the Eyrie. 'I will take you in and teach you as I do with my own sons in the ways of the Lords and this Kingdom' 'Not because Jon asked me. I would have done it anyway had I known sooner...I just wish we could have found you sooner.'

'M'lord, I don't understand. I a thankful really for your help and your hospitality but I don't understand how I would matter' and he raised his eyes to face Lord Stark for the first time since entering the warm and welcoming room. He wanted it to feel welcoming, he wanted to believe Lord Stark's words, he wanted to belong. But he still wasn't worth any of this.

'A bastard son has no claim' he continued and immediately as the words left his mouth he turned his gaze once more to the ground.

'I don't pretend to know all the facts lad...But I can give you this. A safe place, guidance, an education. It's the least I can do given how you spent your childhood'

Guilt. Gendry felt it in his words. But if his own damn father did not care about his existence why did this northern lord? Maybe he was just good through and through. Maybe he was as kind as Lord Arryn. Maybe he was as willing to pass down his knowledge as was his master in King's Landing.

'I can tell you are passionate about your work, so you can apprentice with my smith, Mikken. But you will also train in the yard in the morning with my eldest sons, and take history and languages lessons with maester Luwin and my youngest sons, and in the evenings you will come to me for lessons on Lordship' He even managed up a small grin. 'Any questions?'

'No m'lord, thank you'

'My Lord. Say it as a high born, not m'lord as a commoner! As if I could give any insight on this matter of the tongue'

'Yes my lord'

'Good lad, I will inform my family on this matter. On the meanwhile you are not to tell anyone about your parentage. Go now, rest, you can meet everyone in the morning.'

Lord Stark was definitely a good man. And he was kind. Underneath the solemn and gruff look of the north. He was deep in his thoughts as he walked through the corridors toward _his_ room.

* * *

_The next morning_

The next morning Gendry woke up feeling refreshed. It took him a minute to get his bearings and adjust to the environment but he felt warm and safe in his room in Winterfell. It would just take him a while to get accustomed to waking up in a soft featherbed, warm from the dying embers in the hearth.

He splashed some water on his face and tried to tame his hair. He wore his new clothes. A soft cotton undershirt, a simple but very well made leather doublet, some breeches and new boots. He took a look in the looking glass and straighten himself up. He had to meet all the Starks in just a few minutes and hope no one would turn him down.

_Calm yourself _

His heart was racing when he approached the hall but he took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

'Good morning Gendry. Come and meet everyone' Lord Stark called him from his seat at the high table.

The setting felt unceremonious and casual calming him as he walked through the hall where apparently all the occupants of the castle had gathered together to break their fast.

'My lord' he dipped his head in respect when he stood across Lord Stark.

'This is my wife, Catelyn' he pointed to the statuesque woman on his right side who eyed him with suspicion. He gathered as Lord Stark did not say anything about himself that he had already talked about him with his wife. She herself did not appear as welcoming to him as the Lord himself had been. He would have to do anything in his power to not do anything to disturb her. He already felt like his stay at Winterfell would be an imposition to her.

'My lady. Thank you for welcoming me to your home' and bowed properly in front of her. Or at least he tried.

'Good morning boy, I hope you found your quarters satisfying' She said with a cold misdemeanor, apparently trying to sound indifferent.

'Yes my lady, thank you'

'You don't have to thank us all the time lad, you are welcome here' Lord Stark interrupted trying to lighten the mood. 'And these are my daughters, Sansa and Arya' he pointed towards the two girls sitting next and across their mother. A miniature of Lady Catelyn with long red hair and a perfect posture and poise, Sansa. She did not speak or raise her eyes to even acknowledge his pleasure. Arya though, who did not look like a little soldier anymore but was wearing a dress and her dark hair that did not look anything like her mother's or sister's but more like her father's had been messily pulled back into a braid, was actually staring at him with a questioning look. He would probably hear a clever little comment later.

He bowed towards the girls the same way he did with their mother 'Pleasure to meet you my ladies'

At that Arya snorted and returned her attention to the plate in front of her.

'And these are my sons, Robb and Jon, who you already met, the young ones, Bran and Rickon and my ward Theon' Lord Stark pointed towards the five boys apparently in line with their ages who all looked at him with smiles on their faces, seemingly entertained with his discomfort. He greeted the lordlings with the same respect but feeling quite relieved by their mood.

'Come sit with us Gendry' Robb called pointing towards the empty seat between him and Jon.

'He looked as if he was about to piss himself' Theon said with a lopsided grin.

'Oh shut up Theon, as if you would not be scared if you had to be presented in front of my mother, you were probably too young to even remember your first time here' Robb said and clapped his back trying to calm him.

'Your name is Waters right?' Jon asked from his other side and he nodded. 'It is not you she hates but me, or even all bastards, reminder of my father's one dishonor to her. My name is Snow' He unlike all the other children whose looks favourited their mother had dark curly hair and grey eyes, just as Arya did.

'No need to get heavy Jon. We will show you around Winterfell Gendry don't worry' Robb said with a big wide smile

'And around Winter town' Theon said excitedly and winked at him for some reason.

'No need to discuss your business in Wintertown around the young ones' Jon jumped to stop him from elaborating with a flush on his face.

Bran giggled and young Rickon was too involved playing with his food to even care.

Gendry assumed what was implied was a tour of the local brothel. Which did not interest him in one bit. But he sure felt grateful for the friendly and open discussion with the boys. So he relaxed and enjoyed his food.

* * *

_The next week_

A week later he found himself in the training yard being yelled at by Sir Rodrick, the master at arms, while sword training with Robb, Jon and Theon. Theon was not really training but watching over Bran who was struggling with a bow and arrow. Gendry himself felt hangover and way too tired to execute the moves properly. He and the older boys had been found drinking last night in the glass gardens by Jory, Sir Rodrick's son, and the master at arms was giving everyone a hard time for it.

Within a week he had bonded with all of them and they were now fast friends joking around and going on rides and training all together. Jon as a fellow bastard did seem to understand him more out of everyone. Theon was not as bad as he originally seemed, helpful to lighten the mood whenever he and Jon seemed too disturbed by Lady Catelyn's attitude. And Robb was a great help showing him around and introducing him to everyone with a smile on his face.

Now though he was struggling even with the boys help during the training sessions and their sparring. He had spent most of his life making swords, but using them was a different thing altogether.

'You should stand side face' Arya called from where she was perched on the railing observing them. Jon had warned him she often run from her lessons with Septa Mordane to come and hide in the training yard.

'Side face?'

'Sideways...'

'Why?'

'Smaller target' she responded as if it was the most casual thing for a small girl to know.

'She does have a point' Jon said with an entertained look staring at his sister.

* * *

_The next month_

That morning he found Summer, Bran's direwolf, starring at the sky. He looked up to see Bran jumping down from a roof. He had noticed the young boy was an avid climber, always perched on a high spot or scaling the many towers of Winterfell.

'Hurry up! We need to get to Luwin's class now' Gendry called and headed towards the maester's quarters.

Today's lesson was history. They were learning about Aegon the Conqueror. During the past month maester Luwin had been a great and very patient tutor, teaching him the basics of the History of the Great families of Westeros along with the young boys of the Stark family.

But Gendry was a very good student himself, already writing and reading with great ease considering his very minimal prior knowledge on the subject, practicing long into the night. He was surely making the most out of the education that was provided for him.

* * *

_ After three months_

Gendry spent most of his free time at the forge. Mikken, the castle's blacksmith, had been apprehensive about him in the beginning but after hearing about his former master and taking a look at the direwolf and bull helms that Gendry made was more than happy for the skilled lad to ease his workload. As everyone in the North he showed little excitement and did not chat much but he praised Gendry when he was satisfied with his work.

He was mostly fixing broken swords and dented armors but when he found the time he worked on reworking Valyrian trinkets with the instructions of master Mott he received by correspondence.

He enjoyed the stifling hot air of the forge, a constant in his life during this big change. Not that he did not enjoy his time in Winterfell, but Lord tutoring sometimes proved too challenging and hammering steel helped ease his mind.

* * *

_After six months_

He spent his evenings in Lord Stark's solar where the wise man taught him everything that a Lord _should_ know. Sometimes they talked about agriculture, sometimes about estate management, sometimes about the wars and sometimes about his father.

One evening Lord Stark told him about the day they had found the direwolves. The guard had found a Night's Watch deserter and Lord Stark performed the execution. Gendry was perplexed but he explained that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. The North was a different and cold place yes, but Gendry found wisdom and truth in Eddard's words.

He still did not understand why he was taught in the ways of the Lords but he very much appreciated Ned's tutelage and he never failed to express his gratitude to the man who took him in without question.

* * *

_A year later_

He had been used to finding her in odd places by now. She would often throw a fit, or run from her septa, or avoid her sister and her friends and their unkind words.

This time though they had been searching her all day. He was the one to find her, curled up with Nymeria under the Weirwood tree in the Godswood. He felt awe every time he was here but now he was worried by her sad expression. He wished Jon was here as he always seemed to know what to tell her and calm her down.

'Everyone is worried Arya... Where have you been all day?' He said with a soft voice as he approached her and sat on the branch bench facing her.

'I hate everyone' she said with a pout.

'I don't believe that. You love your father, and your mother and your siblings so much.'

'Yes, I do.... But they hate me'

'That is also untrue and you know it. What happened.'

'Mother says I am getting married'

'You are much too young to be a wife m'lady'

'Do not call me 'm'lady' and yes I know. Sometime I will have to get married though she says.'

'Yes I presume you will...'

'Then you are as bad as the rest of them. I talked to father...'

'And what did _he_ say?'

'I said I want to be a knight or a lord of a holdfast like my brothers'

'Yes, I remember you being a very persuasive little soldier Arya' he said with a smile and for one second she smiled back at him.

'He said I will marry a high lord and rule his castle, that my _sons_ will be knights and lords and princes' she began sobbing and Gendry moved next to her and held her tightly to calm her down.

'But that's not me...' she managed between her sobs

'No... that's not' and he held her for a while shushing her, Nymeria curled up in his side as well, until she fell asleep in his arms and he carried her back towards the keep...

_ That was the first time Arya let herself be vulnerable in front of him._


	5. A celebration and a feast _ Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve on his 17th name day Gendry reminisces about his time at Winterfell.

_ Winterfell 300 AC_

On the eve of Gendry's 17th name day while he hammered a particularly special piece of steel in the forge he thought about the two years he had already spent in this place.

_Two years_

He could barely fathom how fast the time had passed. How quickly he had grown accustomed to the cold of the North. How much he had come to see Ned Stark as a father figure and how he respected the wise man. How he had found brotherly friends among the Stark boys. And how often he found himself dragged in odd adventures by young Arya.

His days were always so full that he would end up asleep before his head even touched his pillow. He begun with taking breakfast in the great hall with the Starks and the whole household. It still amazed him how the great family sat amongst the people without any sign of contempt. It was as if the entirety of the castle were one big family. And he did not take this lightly. He had been on his own for so long... Without his mother and without a father. He appreciated the way they had welcomed him.

To his surprise the direwolves seemed to enjoy his presence, none too affectionate, loyal only to their masters, with the exception on Nymeria, who from even their first meeting let him pet her behind her ears.

Even Lady Catelyn had started to warm up to him, especially after he had proven to be the best tracker when they lost Arya in some strange place in the keep or the woods. He did not betray her trust and drag her back against her will... No, he would never do that. But he had learned, from the best nonetheless, Jon, her favorite sibling, what to say to her to get her to relinquish her never-ending quest to escape her chores. It helped that his own stubbornness seemed to be quite the match for her own.

_'Come on Arya, it's the third time this week I found you hiding down here'_

_ 'I don't recall inviting you though'_

_ 'No you did not. But why do you keep coming down at the crypts every time you want to escape the Septa. First of all she is furious and I saw her heading towards your mother's solar. And second, it's creepy down here'_

_ 'I like it here, it is quiet and no one calls me horseface. I swear I hill strike Jeyne the next time I see her giggling with Sansa during sawing practice. And Septa Mordane said my hands are like a blacksmith's hands and I should try and observe how my sister does her sawing'_

_ 'Those soft little things?' Gendry took her small hands in his own and turned to lead them up out of the eerie place. 'You could not even hold a hammer' _

_ 'And how would you know stupid?'_

_ 'I was a blacksmith remember? Now let's get you to your chamber before Septa Mordane reaches your mother'_

After breakfast he would train with Robb, Jon and Theon under the watchful eye of Sir Rodrick. He had become quite a competent swordsman with the help of the boys but it would never be his skill. He was particularly averted in the art of unconventional weaponry such as maces, halberds and his favorite, the war hammer. It was the one he had the most practice after all, swinging the hammer in the smithy for more than ten years. He still made each weapon himself and his war hammer was his favorite. He had fashioned small silver antlers that decorated the heavy piece. He made new swords for the boys too. And a bunch of arrow tips for Theon who preferred the bow to the sword.

He and the older boys would often go on long horse rides. He was thankful for Robb's patience who had dedicated what seemed to be months to teach him.

_'I honestly cannot tell who is more afraid. You or the colt' Robb told him trying to hold back his laughter_

When he finally felt comfortable enough atop Bull the boys took him on his first hunt. The feeling of freedom he felt galloping in the snowy field was the stuff of dreams. Surrounded by grey and blue as winter slowly came to shadow over the North he felt elated.

_'The boar will not be waiting for you Gendry, come along' Jon called waking him from his daydream from atop his own stallion while he passed by him with great speed._

Jon had become his best of friends. They bonded easily from the beginning founding comfort in their similar bastard status having long talks about everything and nothing long into the night. Not long ago Jon told him about his decision to take the black. Lord Stark seemed to be against it but Jon insisted it would be for the best of the family. Perhaps the best for Lady Catelyn. He was still mulling over it though, Gendry could tell. The repercussions from his announcement to leave for Castle Black would be terrible. They were afraid of one's particular reaction. What would young Arya do when she heard that her favorite brother would be leaving? Her reaction was the reason he was still at the forge at this hour, hammering and hammering, fashioning a gift that would cushion the blow as per Jon's instructions.

Robb on the other hand was always cheerful and his joyous mood had an effect on his broody self. The young Lordling did not let his status as Eddard's eldest son and heir affect how he treated others. They had their fun but he never neglected to take his spot next to his father during the day's petitions. As a part of Gendry's tutelage he sat in the great hall as well taking in the way that he and Lord Stark would listen with equal respect each of their subject's requests or conflicts.

Theon was the one that often led them to trouble. When they could drag him from Ross's bed he would take them to Wintertown for a round of ale at the Smoking Log. They would often attract the attention of the girls but he and Jon did not show much interest to counter their forward advances.

After he and the boys had sufficiently exhausted themselves in the training yard it was time to join Arya and Bran in their lessons with maester Luwin. After two years he had mastered of course writing and reading, skills that he would not even think were a possibility for him to possess while he was at Mott's shop in the capital. He had discovered that he loved history. But not the epic tales of knights and kings and warriors that Arya fussed about all the time. He loved to learn about the practical side of things. The tools and the weapons, the buildings and the farming, the everyday life of the everyday people of the past.

Some days he would then go to the smithy where he would spend hours following Mikken's orders mending armor and swords for the Winterfell Guard. When the day's orders had been taken care of and Mikken would retire for the night Gendry stayed there long into the hours of the dark. There would always be smoke coming from the chimney of the forge while he worked on his own steel, either on his personal projects such as the boys' or now, Arya's, swords, or reading again and again Master Mott's notes on the spells to rework Valyrian steel. After two years he had made little progress on this front. He had not enough material to work with, shaping and melting and shaping again the same little trinket he could find in the smithy's archive of materials, not enough to make something bigger than a small bangle. Truth be told he was frustrated with himself at this point, taking it out on Arya who often sat with him at the forge to help him with the Valyrian spells.

_ 'I have folded and folded and folded the steel and nothing!' he snapped_

_ 'I do not care about that stupid, I am just here to help with the spells remember?' she immediately spat back_

_ 'You should not insult people that are bigger than you, you know!' he tossed the piece back at the fire, turned to face her and crossed his arms._

_ 'Then I wouldn't get to insult anyone' she quipped back with a playful smile. _

When he was not needed at the forge and Lord Stark had the time he spent his afternoons and evenings in his solar. They would talk for hours and hours about his Lord training. He still could not understand how or why a man such as Lord Stark would spend such time to essentially privatly tutor him on the ways of this kingdom. After all this time though he would offer back his opinion on the matters of discussion, having witnessed the man during countless petitions and expeditions all across the North. It was not easy at fist having no reason to explain his presence along the Lord's sons but it had become a norm that where Ned went Robb and Gendry always followed.

Yesterday they talked about his father. Lord Stark told him about their youth, Robert's love for his sister, Lyanna, and the events that followed that led to him taking the iron throne.

_'Robert loved her, too much even, but he did not know how to love her as she deserved perhaps' Ned stated with the same sad tone that he seemed to always use when talking about his family. They had suffered greatly the Starks, and the loss of Lyanna still pained the man._

_'What do you mean my Lord?'_

_ 'He was a striking man in his youth, as you are today, and he attracted the attention of the girls, lowborn and highborn, long before he met my sister' he offered in explanation._

_ 'But she got kidnapped my Lord, how did his infidelity affected this?'_

_ 'They were quite the pair that is all I know Gendry. You remind me of them... You and... Never mind. It is getting late, you should go and rest now, we have both had a long day'_

He was curious about Lord Stark's words but he had no more time to dwell as he realized he had spent too much time in the forge this evening. He needed to go and get some rest if he had any hope to survive the next day. Lord Stark had said they had planned a small celebration. In times like this he thought about all the ways he did not deserve any of this. He had been lucky and he was certainly grateful, but he was still a nobody, a bastard who did not matter. He does not deserve Ned's time, Robb's and Jon's company, Arya's friendship. With this thoughts of self doubt and pity he finally reached his featherbed and tried to get some sleep. But once again the dreams deprived him of a good night's rest...

_Blue eyes. Grey eyes. A storm coming..._

* * *

On the morning of his 17th name day everything seemed normal. But Gendry could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. A strange premonition that something was coming. Still he had a full day ahead of him before the small celebration the Stark family had planned. So he got dressed and got out the door.

During practice with Jon that morning he noticed Lord Stark up on the balcony overlooking the training yard. He was observing them with a uncharacteristic smile painted on his face.

The rest of the day flowed as always. Only difference was that Mikken gave Gendry the day off. His gift to him was a new pair of iron tongs, a heftier piece meant for his larger frame. He thanked his master and went straight to his room. He felt particularly pampered after his bath putting on the new clothes Lady Catelyn and Sansa had kindly gifted him this morning at breakfast. He stared at the looking glass for a good while. He still felt unworthy of it all but he liked what he saw. With his longer hair, his new leather doublet and his warm wool cloak he looked like a true Northman. The cold did not bother him as much that he would need a cloak especially inside the castle but as the Stark motto said 'Winter was coming'. Maybe it would prove useful soon.

The boys had gifted him a new saddle for Bull. The old one was quite beat up and it was due for a change given the fact that both him and the horse had grown a lot during his time at Winterfell. Bull was now a stallion and the only horse in the stables that could tolerate Gendry's large built.

Before heading out to meet Lord Stark at his solar he took one last look at his desk. On top of it there was a small wooden chest full of salves, balms and medicinal herbs. It was his gift from Arya. She had developed quite an interest in botany during the last year, always asking questions to maester Luwin and spending hours upon hours in the Winterfell library and the glass gardens, gathering herbs for her concoctions.

_ 'Here you go' She mumbled and shoved the chest in his hands_

_ 'What is this my lady?' He questioned with a chuckle._

_ 'How many times do I have to ask you to stop calling me that?' she snapped 'Tis your gift' she retorted and turned her gaze to the ground. Was she embarrassed?_

_ 'Thank you so much... My lady' he replied with a small bow._

_ 'Ah, you are unbearable!' She muttered and turned on her heel to leave._

_ 'Wait, Arya! Come on, it was but a joke' but she was already gone. She had become quite stealthy and he had difficulty catching up with her. Well he could never catch up with her unless she would let him..._

At Lord Stark's solar he was surprised to find that maester Luwin was also there.

'This is our gift to you Gendry' Lord Stark presented a small metal ring to him.

'Is this Valyrian? My Lord... Maester is this one of your chain links? I cannot accept this, tis too valuable'

'Yes you can, and you will' Maester Luwin told him with the same authoritative tone he often used talking to young Rickon.

'I cannot thank you enough. Both of you. Not for this alone. For everything you have given me. I will be forever in your dept.'

'Stop it Gendry. We have been over this again and again. Yes we took you in but you have proven your worth as a fighter, as a student, as a young Lord'

He did not have an answer to that so he just nodded his head in appreciation.

'During your practice this morning you and Jon reminded me so much of my own youth. Me and Robert at the Eyrie at the same age as you two. You seem like such good friends too' For a moment he looked a bit lost for words before he continued 'It was a long time ago, we were so much happier, before the war. It has changed him I am afraid, the power, and the crown, they can corrupt even the best of us. Blurring the line between what is wrong and what is necessary'

After a while they headed towards the great hall for dinner. Lord Stark made a toast in Gendry's honor and the music begun. Gendry loved the celebrations in the North, happy chatter filling the huge room, the fires and the flowing wine making everyone warm, the delicious food. Even the direwolves were wrestling playfully in the corner.

He was slumped at a table with Jon, Robb, Theon and Arya who was trying to sneak a few sips here and there from his wine cup when maester Luwin stormed in the hall.

'My Lord a raven'

Lord Stark broke the seal and his brows furrowed while he read the parchment. Silence fell over the hall and everyone turned their attention to Eddard, waiting to hear about the contents of the small letter.

'Gods... The King is coming to Winterfell'


	6. A celebration and a feast _ Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last the King arrives at Winterfell. Chaos ensues...

_ Winterfell, the following month_

What followed the raven announcing the royal party's visit was a truly hectic month. The ancient castle in the North was bustling with the preparations for the King's arrival at Winterfell. Workers and merchants running back and forth in the great courtyard. Lady Catelyn was making sure the food and drink stores were full in time. A king's visit sure was an expensive affair.

He was trying to stay out of the way during the frantic month. His training was put on hold so he tried to be as helpful as possible. And so he tried to stay in the forge where he was needed the most.

The forge was surprisingly empty one day. Only a few small repairs were scheduled so Gendry had the perfect window of opportunity to work on Arya's sword. He took extensive care as the small thin blade would be difficult to make as strong as the great broadswords most people wanted, the weight of the steel alone guaranteeing its strength. But he would manage it and the rondel blade would be as flexible as strong. Small but deadly, like her he though and his face turned to a smile.

When he finished with the steel he put it in the dying embers to temper and turned his attention to the hilt. He had designed it with her hand in mind, a flowing bronze ribbon that would protect her from touching the tri-edged sharp blade. He filed the opening that would accept the tongue of the blade one last time. He prepared the leather that would wrap the wooden handle. He polished the engraved oval bronze piece that would become the pommel. And when the blade cooled enough he put all the parts together and wrapped the small sword with a cloth. He would give it to Jon in the morning. For now he just needed to rest. In a few days the King was due to arrive and who knew what that would bring.

* * *

As per Lady Catelyn's specific instructions he and Jon would stand five paces behind the Starks for the King's procession. Everything was ready and flawless. Except for one little thing. Arya was not there.

She showed up last minute wearing the soldier's helm she had on when he first met her. Jon beside him snorted a laugh so as to not spike the little wolf's mother and Gendry shoot her a wink. Her father grabbed it off her head just in time.

Then they started arriving. First Sir Jaime Lannister, then the Crown Prince with his hound, the wheelhouse where the Queen and her children would be and at the end the King atop a black stallion. Everyone in the courtyard dropped to their knees as the King dismounted and stood in front of his oldest friend, signaling them to stand up.

He was fat the King, his father. Not the tall broad soldier yielding his hammer with determination as he had been depicted in that tapestry in Jon Arryn's solar in King's Landing. Be it an artistic liberty or just a long time ago Gendry wondered.

The pleasantries were over and done quickly and King Robert demanded to be shown to the crypts so that he could pay his respects.

Before the crowd could disperse a guard came to fetch Gendry. Lord Stark was demanding he joins them at the crypts...

* * *

As he got down the steps leading to the castle crypt, the Starks last resting place, he thought of the last time he had been here. It had been a while since he had last found her here. More like moons ago. She had stopped running. She just ignored what hurt her now. Not as if she ignored the person or what troubled her, but she turned stone like and expressionless. A strange sense of newfound maturity, he thought, for the little girl that always outrun them all while riding, begged them to let her try her hand at swordfight, called them idiots for always treating her as a lady.

But this trip down the winding stairs was different. He always felt uneasy in this place but a weigh hanged onto him like never before. Lord Stark had called him. To meet his King.

_To meet his father..._

When he and the guard closed in the distance in the dimly lit cavernous hall towards the figures his companion stopped dead in his tracks. Gendry presumed he feared to approach the King. Or maybe he was not even allowed. So he picked up the pace and as he got near enough to make out their faces in the darkness he heard it...

'I have sons, you have daughters. We'll join our houses.' the king bellowed to a confused Lord Stark before turning to face him.

He immediately dropped to his knee and greeted the king as Lord Stark had taught him. With all the confidence of a lordling he could muster.

'So this is the lad Ned?' he sounded...excited? 'Rise! Let me look at you.'

So Gendry did as he commanded and stood to his full height, careful to avert his own gaze from the inquisitive eyes of King Robert. The whole scene bore a striking similarity to his first encounter with Jon Arryn.

'He is mine, there is no question to that. Look at me lad!' and Gendry finally locked eyes with the fat man. 'He looks exactly as I did the day I put my hammer on that bastard's chest. Ned, does he not?' Despite that tapestry depicting that exact scene, he could not see the similarity that apparently everyone recognized. The man in front of him yes had his eyes, and the color of his hair, but he was fat and tired and like a ghost of the man he had once been perhaps.

Lord Stark just nodded and the king took one last look at him and then back at something behind him, Lady Lyanna's statue as Arya had told him, before turning to leave, Lord Stark right behind him, leaving him standing there wondering what the purpose of this meeting and of the words he heard were.

* * *

The king's feast was a grand affair. The tables were full with rich dishes and plenty of wine and ale. The huge chandeliers were bathing the hall with hundreds of flickering candles. The band of musicians were singing jolly songs. Every resident of Winterfell, all the gathered northern Lords and every member of the King's party were enjoying themselves. Every single but one.

He was too pissed for that. Lady Catelyn had insisted that Jon would not attend the feast. As if a bastard would offend the drunk fat man who was currently hopping from table to table, a drink in his one hand, a table maid's ass in the other.

'Would you stop sulking' Robb pleaded from his place beside him. 'You might actually turn into my brother with all that brooding.'

'Your brother should be here!' Gendry snapped at his friend 'Then I would not have to take his face'.

'You act as if you have not met my mother' Robb choked an amused laugh.

'Well am I not a bastard too?' he grunted 'What am _I_ doing here?'

'I think we both know exactly what you are doing here' Robb stated with the calmest of manners.

So apparently he knew. He had assumed Lord Stark had informed his eldest on the situation but it was still the first time either one of them acknowledged his status.

As he filled his glass he turned to look around the hall. On the high table that stood above them only the Queen and Lady Catelyn were sitting now. The King had abandoned the table long before to sit amongst the minor Lords, the table maid now on his knees. Lord Stark on the other hand was talking quietly to his brother, the ranger from Castle Black, and the Hand of the King in a corner of the hall. Down below, at the 'children's' table he and Robb were sat, he noticed the crown prince shooting suggestive looks to Sansa. She seemed to enjoy the attention but he could not help but think the prince looked off somehow. He dismissed him as an entitled prick and he returned his attention to the Queen. She was beautiful but cold, stone faced, obviously uncomfortable trying to make small talk with the Lady of the Castle. Lady Catelyn on the other hand seemed to do everything to be a good hostess. She was good at it. Running a castle. And she was smart. But at the moment Gendry resented her for sectioning out his friend once again.

Since meeting his fa... his King in the morning he felt uneasy, as if walking on ice. He needed his friends for this. Whatever this was.

Then the King moved to take his place again by his wife. He slammed his hand on the table and suddenly every noise in the hall halted. He rose his cup and spoke.

'We are thankful to Lord Stark, my oldest friend, for hosting us tonight' the crowd started clapping before he silenced them once more.

'We have more reasons to celebrate but my arrival in the North. I am pleased to announce the betrothal of Prince Joffrey and Lady Sansa.' Cheers again. Sansa was glowing with joy. Her sister, across from her, just looked unimpressed.

'You are too eager to cheer and for good reason but I must ask you to stop for I have not finished' The king looked positively amused and Gendry turned to look at Lord Stark. He felt the ground disappear beneath him as he saw the panicked look both he and Jon Arryn shared at that moment.

'I am also happy to acknowledge Gendry, my trueborn eldest son' he pointed at him to stand and so he did, if so unwillingly 'Who was fostered here under this roof by Lord Stark' He was numb. His body moving to the kings command without his mind's consent. 'It is time to welcome him to this family' The king bellowed, the crowd cheered, Lord Stark came quickly to whisper something to his friend and the announcements stopped. But Gendry felt as if nothing would ever be the same after this.

* * *

In the following morning he was summoned at the break of dawn at Lord Stark's personal solar where a meeting with the Hand of the King, the King and the Warden of the North would take place. His presence had been required. _Why? What would they have him do? _He was dreading that his time at Winterfell ending. He would put on a brave face and act as natural as could. As if one day was enough for him to process last night's announcement. _Not even a day. Not even one night._

What followed the feast was a trance for Gendry. He had noticed the vile looks Queen Cersei and the Crown Prince had given him after the King's address. He had noticed the forlorn demeanor of Robb who looked at him in understanding, who had apparently always known about his parentage. He had noticed Lady Catelyn's star struck face. He had noticed how the younger Stark kids looked at him as if he were suddenly a stranger. He had noticed how Arya seemed seething with anger, her hands clutched into tiny fists on top of the table, as if he had just betrayed her, as if it had been him that spoke and not the drunk King.

_As if this was what he wanted? _

_ Was it? Did he want this? _

_ A father, yes. This father though, perhaps not. _

Ned Stark had been father enough for him for two whole years. Jon Arryn had been a father figure, even if it was so brief. Even Tobho had been a father for him in a way. He suddenly realized that for a bastard boy who never got to know his actual father there had been plenty good men there to take his place when he needed it the most. This thought gave him a renewed confidence. A confidence he had perhaps never had before. So he stood up straight, rose to his full height, took a deep breath and opened the chamber door forcefully.

* * *

The King was sitting in Lord Stark's chair behind his large desk, a half empty wine cup already in his hands. How he was even awake at this hour he could not understand. But he did not dwell on him any longer as he noticed Lord Arryn was slumped in the armchair in front of his desk, looking as if he had aged ten years in one day, his gray head clasped between his hands. Lord Stark was pacing nervously back and forth stopping momentarily to look at the courtyard from the large window.

'I am certain that Ned has done a very good job with your education lad but it is high time you join your kin.'

Gendry, having dropped to his knee to express respect to his King, his father, stood up and exclaimed 'With all due respect your grace, who is my kin? I am but a bastard boy, a lucky bastard boy but a bastard nonetheless' he exclaimed turning his gaze to Ned silently expressing his gratitude for the last two years.

'Yes but you are the eldest natural born son of a King. Last night you were acknowledged and soon you may even be legitimized.' the King stated with a surprisingly steady speech.

'Robert please. We don't know how a legitimization will affect the lad. He would be in danger and it may actually be already too late' Lord Arryn managed between a coughing fit. Gendry turned to the table, filled a cup with water and passes it to the old man to his right.

'Nonsense Jon, the boy needs to know his brothers, his uncles. Why would he be unsafe? He would be amongst his family'

_His family... Who would be his family? How would these lords treat him, a baseborn in court? How would the Crown Prince react to all of this?_

'What would you have me do your Grace?' Gendry turned his attention back to the king.

Robert stood up and closed the distance between them. He grabbed his chin and turned his face to look him in the eyes. The eyes that they shared... 'You are strong lad' he still did not use his name. 'As I was in my youth. We need strong lads at the capital. You will be a great warrior one day, perhaps a great commander for my armies.'

Gendry certainly did not want to be a warrior. He certainly understood the need to kill when it was necessary as Lord Stark had taught him. He could kill, he would not hesitate. But that did not mean he would enjoy it.

'You could send him to Storm's End. With Renly. Let him put his education to the test, his leading skills, his estate management. Oh I am sure Renly would not mind a helping hand and he would want to meet his nephew, they are so alike in looks, are they not?' Lord Stark intervened this time.

It was clear to him now, the hand and the warden of the north were trying to protect him still. Shield him from the Lannisters' wrath that would fall upon him if he showed up to the capital now, an acknowledged son of the king. And they were trying to present it to the king as it was his own bloody idea.

'Yes that could work. The fucking degenerate would rather spend all the stores of Storm's End before doing any actual work. Maybe the lad would prove helpful there.' The king bellowed and turned to retrieve his wine cup.

Gendry almost choked at the king's reference to his younger brother. But it was working. He would have at least some more time of peace and quiet. Even if the management of the Stormlands was proven to be extremely challenging at least he would not have to suffer in the retched capital. He would need to thank the old gods and the new for the two men in his corner.

'Still, eventually he will have to come, present himself to court. As will you Ned, our children are betrothed. Yes, Sansa is still young, but the heir will need an heir of his own, and soon.'

So Lord Stark had bought time for his daughter as well. He did not trust the Crown Prince, his face and his demeanor seemed somehow menacing...

'Yes your Grace, I will bring her myself when the time comes' Ned said and bowed his head.

Then the hallway outside the hall was suddenly full of voices and running and noise. Jory barged in the room looking petrified.

'My Lord you need to come at once' he took a forced breath and continued 'It's Bran my Lord... There's been an accident'

The rest of the day was a blur...

* * *

Bran had fallen from the Broken Tower. _But the young Stark boy could climb anything. _Robb and Jon had found him lying on his back amongst the soft grass by the ruins. _But he had the reflexes of a cat. _His legs were broken. _But he had never fallen before._ His direwolf was whimpering at his side. _Never before._ His brothers carried his broken sleeping form back to the castle. _How did he fall?_ His mother would refuse to leave his bedside for the remainder of the King's stay at Winterfell.

A fortnight had passed and they were getting ready to leave the capital of the North. The king's party would return to King's Landing. He and Jon would head their respective ways towards the Wall and Storm's End. Jon would travel with the Imp, the Queen's youngest brother, to take the black. He would have to run a castle. Command a force. Manage the Stormlands in his King and father's name.

He was in his chamber, packing his things. Besides his assortment of weapons that had already been moved to the stables, near his horse, he did not pack much. He folded inside his northern coat Maester Luwin's ring and some of Arya's salves and vials. He had not yet found the time to tinker with the Valyrian piece, not yet found a purpose for the girl's concoctions and he would not need the heavy cloak in the South. But he needed to keep the North close, if only to remind him that his time in Winterfell had not been a dream.

He kept his war hammer strapped to his back at all times since Bran's fall, except for when he was in the presence of the King. He felt unsafe for the first time since he learned about his true parentage, two years ago, back in King's Landing.

A soft knock on his door startled him. Instinctively he turned to grab his hammer from his back but before he had time to react Arya entered the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

She stood there for a while, silent, her back glued to the door, her hand clasping the hilt of Needle ever since Jon gave his gift to her and announced his plan, as if she did not know what to say. She always had something to say though and it would not take her long to find the words.

'Jon is leaving' _She stammered finally._

'Yes Arya. Tis what he wants.' _This was not the time for 'my lady's'._

'Bran is still asleep' _Her expression was blank. _

'He will wake Arya, I am sure of it, he is strong and you know that.' _He took a step towards her._

'Sansa will have to go to the capital to marry Joffrey' _Her tiny form was tired._

'Not now, it is not yet time for her to leave' _Another step._

'And you? Is it time for _you_ to leave?' _She demanded._

'Arya...' _He halted his movements._

'Why? Do you _want_ to offer your head to the Lannisters?'_ She know much more than she led on._

'The Lannisters probably wanted my head long before I came to Winterfell.' He was getting exasperated. It was not as if he had wanted any of this.

'You don't have to do this'

'Arya, I have to. Storm's End is the only safe choice.'

'Winterfell is a safe choice too. They will all leave tomorrow...'

'And what? Stay here? Against the King's wishes?' he interrupted her 'Openly disrespect my father? Ignore the command of the King?'

'They gave me a choice Arya! Between the Capital and Storm's End!' he was yelling now, even if it felt wrong 'I would be with my uncle Arya. I would meet my family. I've never had a family.' Even as the words fell from his mouth he wanted to take them back. He knew Lord Stark would be the closest thing he would ever have to a father. He knew Robb and Jon were brothers to him.

She had turned her gaze to the ground, listening his rant. And then she looked at him. Grey steel met blue skies. But she was not steel at that moment. She was holding back tears. Suppressed sadness for her family that was falling apart.

_That was the second time Arya let herself be vulnerable in front of him. _

'I can be your family' the words were almost choked by her feelings.

'You would not be my family. You would be my lady.' His voice soft and mellow. He was a bastard boy and that he would remain even in the greatest castle. She was a wild wolf girl but she was destined to be a great Lady. She would never be his family. But he would always feel the need to guard and shield her from the evils of the world. _Even if he had to leave her..._

He took the last few steps and put his arms around her, burying her in his chest. Trying to comfort her he dragged his hand up and down her back. She was sobbing. Grieving for her brothers and her broken family. Everything would return to normal when they left. She would eventually forget him. It was for the best.

He would have to leave her... _But he would forever hope..._ For now.


	7. An interlude in Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya's first interlude in Winterfell as she tries to get used to life without her favorite sibling and her best friend.

** _ Winterfell, a moon's turn after the King's departure_ **

Arya’s days had felt surprisingly empty since the King’s party departure. Sure enough, life in the Northern capital seemed to flow just as normal as before. Her father still held petitions in the Great Hall every day. Her mother run the affairs of the castle with everlasting efficiency, if she could find it in herself to leave Bran’s bedside. Her oldest brother still practiced swordsmanship with Theon in the training yard. Her sister’s embroidery was as beautiful as ever. Her youngest brother still faced each day with the innocence of a small child. Nymeria still followed her everywhere.

_But everything had changed_ _…_

As the King had come and left he shook her world to its core. When the huge party started on their way back down the Kingsroad, so did her favorite brother and her best friend. One went further up North never to return, bound for eternity by the vows of the Night’s Watch. One went more South than the South it self, to the ancestral home of the Storm Kings, to lead, to become a man of his own, _to meet his family_…

_Had the last two years meant nothing to Gendry?_

_Had the demeanor of one single person been enough to erase an entire lifetime with Jon by her side?_

_And Bran was still asleep and still as a statue in his bed._

What made it all more difficult to process was that nothing changed. It unnerved her that life continued as if nothing happened. That her days were the same, one after the other, same and same again rolling in circles…

She woke up as late as ever. Septa Mordane still scolded her like a little girl. ‘What kind of lady sleeps in until midday?’ _The unladylike kind_. She took her breakfast in the Hall as she did her entire life. Only difference is that now there were three empty chairs. She still snuck out of her sawing lessons to observe the training in the yard. Robb was getting better still. Theon could hit a moving target from atop his mount with his bow and arrow. She even tried her hand at it when no one was looking. But the clanging of Jon’s sword and Gendry’s hammer made the relative silence echo in her ears. Her lessons with Maester Luwin were the most difficult. She was alone after all. How could she pretend everything was normal? Without Bran’s intelligent comments and Gendry’s obvious confusion, she was now basically getting private tutoring from the old maester. In the privacy of her own quarters, she read book after book about the medicinal properties of different plants and herbs with Nymeria snuggled by her side. And she polished her sword, the sword that her brother commissioned from her friend, Needle, the only reminder of the bubble they had lived in for the past two years, every night before falling asleep numb and emotionless.

There had been one dramatic change in her everyday routine. She and Sansa would spend hours everyday in Bran’s room with their mother. There was no bickering there. Just two sisters who if someone had not seen them outside of this room, they would say they were ever loving and supportive of each other.

They either took their place by his bedside when their mother had to run to other parts of the castle on managing affairs, which was not often as she rarely refused to leave her son, or they would sit across from her as she crafted her offerings to the Gods and told them how a woman can take pride in running a house like their own. She did not use the word Lady anymore… She just taught them of the power a woman has in a household and how her job, even if it seemed menial, was as just as important, if not more, of that of her husband.

_A woman not a Lady_. But a household running woman nonetheless. Arya had grown out of her childlike fantasies of becoming a Prince or Knight or Maester. But she was still adamant about making her own fate. Still, she appreciated these moments of peace with her mother and sister, even if Bran laid unmoving between them, reminding them of the cruelty of the world.

* * *

Days or maybe even weeks passed in this strange trance where everything appeared normal. It was late in the evening and she was repeating Robb’s moves with her own sword as she had observed during this morn’s training. She was going through the moves one by one, getting increasingly frustrated as they would not translate in her own lithe small body. She was about to put the sword back in its scabbard when there was a knock on the door and Nymeria barked.

‘Go away!’ She yelled to discourage anyone who was standing on the other side.

‘Arya. Open the door.’ Her father’s deep voice echoed through the heavy door.

She quickly turned to unbolt the door and let him inside. As he closed it behind him he noticed the weapon she was holding.

‘Whose sword is that?’ He said in question.

‘Mine.’ Arya said and offered it to him to examine.

He twirled it in his hand, its size custom to her own, disproportionate in his own large hands.

‘I know this maker’s mark. This is Gendry’s work.’ He admired the light blade in the candlelight. ‘Where did you get this?’

She was silent for a moment as she weighted the options in her head. She could stay silent or she could be honest with her father. ‘Jon, a parting gift.’ It was not like he was going to get in trouble.

‘More like a parting gift from them both…’ he said as he sat down at the bench on the foot of the large bed ‘You should be careful with this Arya, tis no toy. And little ladies should not be playing with swords.’

‘I was not playing and I am neither little nor a lady father.’ She said with a tone that was resembling the young wild girl she was years ago.

He urged her to sit next to him and said ‘Now what are you doing with this?’

‘Needle.’ She corrected.

‘Oh a blade with a name.’ He twirled the sword some more ‘And who do you plan to skewer with this _Needle_? Your sister? The septa? Do you even know the first thing about sword fighting?’

‘Stick em with the pointy end.’ She retorted quickly.

‘Ha! More or less. Yes it is obvious Jon gave you this as it is obvious that Gendry crafted it.’

‘I try to practice with it… That was what I was doing when you knocked. I wish I could train with Sir Rodrick. He is not so busy since they left after all…’

‘Sir Rodrick trains men. Men who yield broadswords. This is no broadsword sweet girl.’ He said quietly and kissed her gently on the top of her head, as he did since she could remember.

‘So can I train father? Will you ask him?’ she pleaded and nuzzled into his side.

‘I know you do not fancy yourself a lady but you are. And there are many type of ladies. You will be a fearless one, I know it. My sister was.’ At that his voice dropped. Arya had never heard him talk of her aunt Lyanna. Only thing she knew was that they shared physical resemblances. Maybe even more as it seemed…

‘Listen to me Arya. You are a Stark of Winterfell, you know our words.’ He said and she whispered _winter is coming. __‘_You were born in the long summer, you have never known anything else, but now winter is truly coming and it is bringing dangerous times with it. Soon I will have to go to the Capital and who knows what I will have to face there.’ She was paying close attention to his words.

‘That means we must stick together. Protect one another. Look what happened to Bran. Look what it made to your mother.’

‘I know…’ was the only thing she could muster to say.

‘You have to be kind to your sister and listen to your mother. Help her whenever you can.’

‘I will. I promise I will.’

He kissed her again, squeezed her tightly and handed her back the sword.

‘I can keep it?’ she was surprised

He laughed softly ‘Yes, but try not to stab someone with it.’

She made a flourished spin with it and said ‘Does this mean you will talk to Sir Rodrick?’

He smiled at her fondly ‘No, but if you are going to have a sword you better know how to use it’ and with that he left the room leaving Arya feeling a mix of excitement, sadness and longing.

* * *

Arya and Sansa’s newfound special time with their mother continued without any more trouble. Her mother was still doing her best at respecting her daughter’s differences and she and Sansa were on the longest running peace they ever had since they were practically babies, younger even than little Rickon.

She was standing facing the desk in Bran’s room as she laid out new vials with healing potions. Everyone of them made under the tutelage and the watchful eye of the maester. They had pretty much tried everything at this point, but there was no hurt in trying some more. Even if they were simple salves to ease any pain the young lad may be feeling during his long sleep.

On the other side of the room Sansa was sitting in a chair, her mother’s tribute to the Seven as a prayer for her son’s safety toying in between her fingers. Catelyn herself was standing behind her, braiding and unbraiding her hair with the most gentle touch. It was something she did since both of them were little. It was her way of soothing and comforting them without using words. As Arya grew she grew restless under her mother’s touch, but Sansa, now a young woman almost of ten and six, still drew comfort from the ritual.

‘Do you think Joffrey will forget me? What if he does mother?’ Sansa suddenly said.

‘Then he is the stupidest prince that ever was.’ Catelyn replied soothingly as Arya tried to stifle her laugh discretely.

‘He is so handsome. I miss him. When will we get married? Why is father making us wait so long?’ Sansa pressed on.

‘Hush now sweet child. It has not yet come to it.’

‘But why does father not want to go to King’s Landing? He would be the second most powerful man in the kingdoms.’

‘Because he would have to leave home’ _Stupid, _Arya kept the last word tightly in her mouth.

‘And he would have to leave me.’ Catelyn continued.

‘Why don’t we all go then, together?’

‘There must always be a Stark in Winterfell Sansa.’ Arya commented.

‘Your sister is right, and since Robb is not yet of age I at least must stay to guide him and help him.’ Catelyn patted down her daughter’s shoulders and picked up to braid the hair once more.

‘But you barely leave this room mother.’ It was Sansa’s turn to face her mother.

‘I do… But you have both been a great help girls and soon Bran will wake and we can try to get back to normal.’ She was sad, her mother. But she had not lost hope yet so Arya kept her next thought to herself once more.

_We don_ _’t know that he or we ever will._

‘Will we leave once he wakes? Please mother, please. I will be Queen one day. It is all I ever wanted.’ Sansa pleaded their mother.

Catelyn pressed a kiss on her head and responded ‘I will talk to your father sweetling. Once the time is right you will both leave with him for the Capital.’

‘Both?’ Arya exclaimed dropping the glass vial on the hard stone to shatter.

‘Yes Arya, both. You must go as well. And in turn your father will find you a suitable husband. When your sister marries the prince it will not be much trouble.’ Her mother said calmly in order not to scare her more.

Arya was shocked. Terrified. _Betrayed_. How could she ever hope to choose her own fate with a husband picked by someone else. With any husband at that. She stared at them for minutes before speaking, her mind racing at the thought.

‘I shall go. Only as not to leave father alone. But I will not marry!’ she turned to the door despite her mother and sister calling her back. She walked and walked in the dark winding corridors of the keep…

* * *

Weeks and weeks passed again and she could not get her father’s words off her mind. _Was she to train in sword fight? And if so, when? _One morn after breakfast she was told by Vayon Poole that she was summoned in one of the indoor halls by the forge’s storerooms. Why was she needed at the forge? Was it managing business on behalf of her mother? Or had they replaced Gendry in the forge? If so they would not need her of all people to approve of their choice. Mikken was capable enough to make decisions on his own business.

She entered the vast hall and saw a relatively short man standing with his back facing her. He was simply dressed and his curly hair was flowing. He was holding two wooden practice swords behind his back and suddenly it all made sense. Father made good of his promise and she was grateful for her choice of dress this morning as she had chosen to wear breeches instead of a skirt.

‘You are late boy!’ the mysterious man called with a thick accent before turning to face her. ‘Tomorrow you will be here at mid day.’

‘Who are you?’ Arya asked even though she could sense the answer. What he said still managed to shock her.

‘Your dancing master’ he retorted with a bright wide smile. ‘Syrio Forel.’ And at that he threw one of the swords at her but she failed to catch it.

‘Tomorrow you will catch it.’ He said as he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Now pick it up!’ he ordered.

He made a point to hold the sword with one hand, however heavy it may be. _It is needed to make her stronger._

He went over her stance telling her to turn her body sideface, commending her on her skinniness. _A small target._

Then the grip. _Delicate._ The sword an extension of the arm, never to be dropped.

He told her he was the first sword of Braavos for nine years. _He was now her master. Her sword fighting master._

He called her boy. She corrected him. He shrugged once again. _She was a sword, nothing more, nothing less._

Then again the grip. Not a battle axe but a _needle_.

And so the dance begun. Not the Westerosi dance of broadswords and hacking, but the swift and flowing Water dance of Braavos. _All men are made of water. You pierce them and the water leaks out._

She tried to strike him, again and again, even losing her sword many times. But each time she dropped, she got up. Each time the sword left her hand, she found it again. And again and again till she was sore all over her body and feeling gratified by the strive she had put in.

What Arya did not notice during her practice with Syrio was her father… Standing in the cove of the entrance of the hall. Watching her. Admiring her joy at first before worry painted over his features…

* * *

Another three moons’ turns and her mother was still having trouble leaving Bran’s room. Arya had just managed to put young Rickon to sleep as he cried and cried for Catelyn’s touch. She tucked the sweet little boy tightly and went to leave the room when she saw Robb waiting for her in the corridor.

‘He needs her.’ Robb said plainly.

‘I know.’

‘And she needs rest.’ He continued.

‘I know that too.’ They both knew how much her brother’s fall had crippled their mother. She said she was hopeful but even still as Maester Luwin assured them Bran had escaped immediate danger long ago she still refused to leave his bedside for more than an hour and she would definitely not leave if someone else was not with him. Usually Arya and Sansa took on the role. The longer the young boy was asleep, the more their mother crumbled.

‘We need to talk to her.’ Robb said and she just nodded as she followed him towards Bran’s bedroom.

She was as usual in her armchair, clutching her offering, her gaze never leaving Bran.

‘How long has it been since you left this room?’ Robb asked her softly as he went to stand by the window. Arya stayed slumped by the door.

‘I need to take care of him!’ their mother said in a half sob.

‘We can help, we’ve been helping.’ Arya said.

‘And you need to take care of yourself too.’ Robb continued.

‘Bran needs me.’ She tried to reason with them.

‘Rickon needs you mother, Arya just spent an hour trying to put him to sleep and he follows me all day, clutching my leg, crying. He does not know what is happening.’

‘Close the bloody window! I can’t stand them anymore.’ Their mother cried before Robb could even finish his thought as the direwolves’ howling became louder and louder in the silence of the night. ‘Please make them stop!’

It broke Arya’s heart to see her mother broken like that but before she could even think to go to her Robb said something that terrified her. _Fire._

He told them to stay there as he left but Arya run back to her room to grab Needle. It was not good that the wolves were crying like that. Something was wrong. Something was more wrong than the fire itself.

She could not have been more right.

_She just wished she wasn_ _’t._

When she came running back to Bran’s room after hearing her mother’s scream she just saw the back of a black cladded man. He was holding a dagger around her mother. She was struggling in his arms.

When Arya noticed that the only thing keeping him still was the soothing hands of her mother on the blade she quickly took Needle out of the scabbard and with one fluid motion dragged the blade on the back side of his knees. The action alone made the man drop the weapon and fall to the ground when Summer jumped furiously into the room and made quick work of the assassin’s neck.

Strangely unfazed by the gory vision she rushed to her mother’s side to clasp her arms and stop the bleeding. She ripped strips of her gauzy skirt and tied her hands before Robb and their father run into the room.

After men came and left, to remove the body, clean the blood off the floor, ask for the whole story and her mother had been safely seen to the maester’s quarters her father commended her on her quick action and urged her to leave herself to get rest, but she would not. Especially after what she had done tonight.

She managed to bring a man to the ground. A man that was hurting her mother. A man that would hurt her brother if not stopped. And she knew it deep in her heart that if Summer had not come then, she would have killed.

She finally climbed into Bran’s bed when everyone was gone. She on the one side and Summer on the other to keep a watchful eye in her mother’s absence. She felt her eyes weighting her and she slowly drifted to sleep.

And just as Arya surrendered her self to rest, Bran eyes opened… _Blank and remembering nothing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Arya's chapter Act I - Peace is over. Up next...On the run.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh you made it to here? Thanks for the read you lovely person. While you are down here I would love to hear your thoughts.  
Follow me on tumblr @sklirotiri for moodboards, sillyness and gendrya for days.


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